


The Witching Hour

by Lycaste



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Costumes, Crack, Humor, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaste/pseuds/Lycaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker has a treat planned for Halloween, but Batman's costume is playing tricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this cracky fic for the 2008 Batman/Joker Halloween challenge. It won runner up! Wow! Check out the fantastic banner that [](http://chosenfire28.livejournal.com/profile)[**chosenfire28**](http://chosenfire28.livejournal.com/) made for me! You can read the other awesome entries [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/batmanjoker/121582.html)

**Title:** The Witching Hour  
 **Author:** lilac28  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own Batman or the Joker. However, that crappy rusted Subaru in the driveway *is* mine so hands off!  
 **Summary:** The Joker has a treat planned for Halloween, but Batman's costume is playing tricks!

Contrary to what one might think, Halloween was not the Joker's favorite holiday. He preferred to wreak havoc on Christmas, Thanksgiving, or even Valentine's Day. Anytime when goodwill was encouraged, love in the air, or people were just extra depressed. Halloween was certainly fun but chaos was almost _expected_ , and if there was one thing the Joker hated, it was being predictable.

Not this year. This Halloween was different, special. This year he would deliver a crushing blow to the morale of the Gothamites. This year he had the Batman unconscious and tied upright to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse in the Narrows. His arms were bound together above him, hanging from a meat hook by a strong rope. There were similar ropes winding around the pillar tied to his legs.

The room smelled musty, air thick with old metal shavings, the kind of place in which it was difficult to draw a deep breath. The Joker didn't care. If needed, he would get by on shallow chuckles. The warehouse was chosen for its perfect location, closer to the West end. Close enough to hear the immense explosion that was going to take place in Gotham's largest shopping mall at midnight.

Midnight. The witching hour. It would officially be Halloween when he pressed the detonator and reduced the shopping mall to a pile of very expensive rubble. No trick or treating at the mall tomorrow night, hundreds of jobs destroyed, millions in property damage. Not too many lives lost in the middle of the night but that wasn't the point. The point was Batman would be able to hear it but powerless to do anything. Broken by the knowledge that he had failed again.

And, the Joker hoped as he ran his hands along smooth armor and kevlar, broken by the knowledge that the clown had gotten him off moments before the destruction. When push came to shove he knew Batman would falter, the electricity between them was too great to ignore.

"Batman," he sidled up to his captive and pressed their bodies together, "I've waited sooo long for this. I see you've, ah, worn your favorite costume for Halloween! Not very original, but I've worn mine as well," he gestured to the purple fabric. "Maybe it's time you slipped into something a little more com-for-table."

Four henchmen wearing clown masks and tee shirts with printed pumpkins looked on in trepidation. Everyone who worked for the Joker was well aware that he had become more and more obsessed with Batman lately, a fact that made them all uneasy. He clipped out every article the Gotham Times ran about the caped vigilante. He skipped around during heists humming nonsensical tunes about Batman. Perhaps most disturbing were the love poems plastering the walls of their hideout, each page covered with small bats drawn in blood.

They were relieved when this had appeared to be a simple "catch and torture" mission, but it was now turning into something else entirely as their boss lazily ran his hand along the armor-covered chest. He was crooning low, sensual endearments to the unaware hero.

"Don't worry, sweetie, don't worry," tongue snaked out over cracked, red lips. "I'm not going to take your entire costume off. I'll leave the mask for another game. I'm juuuuust going to remove what I need to." He began gently prodding and pulling at the pieces of armor.

Twenty minutes later he was still pulling, his touches now far from gentle.

"That's a high-tech costume you have there, Bats," he cackled. "I know you -mmphf," he yanked at the armor with all his strength, "I know you get in and out of it somehow!"

The Joker's hands skittered over Batman's unconscious body, irritation etching into his features. He pulled, grabbed, and dug his fingers in everywhere but it was no use. The normal, jaunty falsetto dropped dangerously low, "C'mon, c'mon, _c'monc'monc'mon._ Gotta be a way in, _got to be a way in...._ "

It was now 9 pm.

Two knives suddenly appeared in his hands, the glint from each one matching the deadly shine in his eyes.

"YOU," he barked at the henchmen, causing them all to jump. "Go to the nearest hardware store and grab anything we can use to break into this armor. Machines, tools, any-thing!" He turned his attention back to the bat.

"Uh, boss, I don't think the hardware store is open after nine." The other three henchmen looked at the offending speaker incredulously and began to slowly back away.

With a flick of the Joker's wrist the clown fell, hands feebly grasping at the mortal knife wound in his throat, lifeblood spilling onto the dusty floor.

"I trusssst," the Joker hissed, "the rest of you can figure out a way to get in."

The clowns scattered, leaving their boss to his manic fumbling. He began slowly slipping a knife between the armor plates in an attempt to pry them off, singing off key the entire time. "Leverage.....leverage......it's all about leveraaaage, isn't it, Batsy? Heh heh heh heh......."

 

 

At 9:45 the clowns returned, despairing when they saw their boss had made no progress. He looked wilder than ever, hair sticking every which way, gesticulating at Batman angrily. The Joker had knife wounds on his own hands and he had apparently painted a huge smile on Batman's face in his own blood. Shuddering, they dropped their spoils at his feet.

"Hmmm....what do we have here?" There were some useless tools. A chainsaw, various blunt objects, an ax, and...ooooo...even a shotgun! They certainly looked fun but he wouldn't try those. No, he did not want to hurt the bat. Not fatally, anyway.

He set to work, becoming more and more frazzled with each passing second. A thin crowbar failed to pry the pieces apart. The heavy wrench didn't leave a dent and various other tools were used and discarded just as quickly.

Frustration settled into the air like a stifling smoke. The Joker was _seething_. Whenever he became truly unbalanced it was difficult for his lackeys not to succumb to panic. They watched in horror when he received an electric shock after trying to jam a knife between the neck and chest piece. Finally, one clown could take it no more.

"Wait....boss....try this," he ran to get a bucket of water they had brought in with the tools. "We were, um, thinking you know? He's got that electric shock thing built in. Maybe the whole system is electric. We just need to, like, short circuit it!"

Proving that anxiety makes people do funny things, the henchman found he simply couldn't stop babbling about electrical circuits. Independent of the brain, his hands moved to throw the bucket of water into Batman's face. Nothing. There were no sparks, and an experimental tug on the armor revealed that it still held fast. It was then that the henchman realized with absolute, jaw-dropping dread that he had splashed water all over his boss.

Time stopped. Thundering heartbeats were the only sounds permeating the air. Yet despite his damp suit and running make up the Joker was.........smiling. It looked like he was going to get to use the chain saw after all........

 

 

At 11:02 the Joker was looking desperately at his stolen watch. It would be Halloween in less than an hour and Batman was still out cold and fully dressed. A battery operated drill found its way into his hands. _Maaaybe just try the shoulder. If it pierces the skin it won't hurt him too much. Bats is tough._

The drill bit broke almost immediately, barely scratching the surface. The Joker threw it aside and howled with furious laughter. On the night before Halloween, he looked like a twisted apparition with no one to haunt. He began pacing back and forth, yelling at his captive.

"What does it take? You are SO STUBBORN! What does it take to _make you see...._ " He grabbed one of the two clowns left, "what does it take...."

The man didn't realize it was probably a rhetorical question. "M-m-m-m-magnet," he stammered.

"WHAT!?!?"

"M-m-magnet. What if it-it's magnetic? Maybe we could pull it apart with a strong magnet."

The Joker pulled one of the few remaining items from his pockets, a lady-like pistol, and shot the man right between the eyes. Where did he _find_ these idiots?

"It's kevlar and space-age PLASTIC," he groused, "not metal. That's not going to work!"

He pulled on one of the bat ears, jerking his captive's head up and began licking along his jaw. "C'moooon, Batsy, wake up and play. I'm not gonna kill you. I just wanna _taste_ you."

 

 

 

At 11:46 the last living clown, in a rare moment of henchman-related lucidity, made a decision. He tore off the mask and stole silently out the back door. Working for the Joker was just too much stress, maybe the Penguin was hiring.

His boss didn't even notice. He was too busy groping at his prisoner's clothed body.

"BATMAN," he shrieked, "how am I supposed to give you a treat if you won't take off your costume?"

The Joker pulled the final item out of his jacket and began to use it to beat at the bat's chest in intense vexation. Again and again he slammed his fist into the immovable object before him.

He didn't realize that he was holding the detonator, didn't register when it broke apart in his hand, didn't even hear the massive explosion in the distance.

What he did hear was a barely audible click and a groan. One of the chest pieces was now slightly askew and the bat appeared to be stirring!

_Oooooo.....the trick is to push, not pull....heh heh.....oops_

The Joker deftly slipped one of his slender fingers into the new opening in the armor and found a small latch. He flicked it upwards and laughed with delight when the pieces started falling away, unstable as a house of cards. Underneath, Batman wore only a very thin black shirt and pair of tight shorts. The Joker's eyes roamed hungrily over the hard body. So many muscles and-oh!-Batsy appeared to be very well endowed indeed.

He chuckled to himself and crouched between Batman's legs. _Finally._

The Joker began to pull himself into a standing position against his hostage. He left no room between their bodies, pressing them tightly together. He wanted nothing between them, wanted to infiltrate every cell of this fascinating man. He fused them together; the only space left was between their faces, just far apart enough to drink in the dawning terror in Batman's eyes.

His watch started beeping, indicating it was twelve o'clock. Midnight. The witching hour.

"Happy Halloween, Batman," the Joker murmured, as he closed the gap between their lips.


End file.
